And now you understand how it was that he was the first to return, and that seeing him thus returning, apparently safe and sound, the two ladies, intent upon preventing the encounter, should have assumed that their worst fears were realized.

Mme. de Plougastel attempted to call out, but her voice refused its office.  She attempted to throw open the door of her own carriage; but her fingers fumbled clumsily and ineffectively with the handle.  And meanwhile the caleche was slowly passing, La Tour d’Azyr’s fine eyes sombrely yet intently meeting her own anguished gaze.  And then she saw something else.  M. d’Ormesson, leaning back again from the forward inclination of his body to join his own to his companion’s salutation of the Countess, disclosed the empty right sleeve of M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s blue coat.  More, the near side of the coat itself turned back from the point near the throat where it was caught together by single button, revealed the slung arm beneath in its blood-sodden cambric sleeve.

Even now she feared to jump to the obvious conclusion feared lest perhaps the Marquis, though himself wounded, might have dealt his adversary a deadlier wound.

She found her voice at last, and at the same moment signalled to the driver of the caleche to stop.

As it was Pulled to a standstill, M. d’Ormesson alighted, and so met madame in the little space between the two carriages.

“Where is M. Moreau?” was the question with which she surprised him.

“Following at his leisure, no doubt, madame,” he answered, recovering.

“He is not hurt?”

“Unfortunately it is we who... " M. d’Ormesson was beginning, when from behind him M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s voice cut in crisply: 

“This interest on your part in M. Moreau, dear Countess... "

He broke off, observing a vague challenge in the air with which she confronted him.  But indeed his sentence did not need completing.

There was a vaguely awkward pause.  And then she looked at M. d’Ormesson.  Her manner changed.  She offered what appeared to be an explanation of her concern for M. Moreau.

“Mademoiselle de Kercadiou is with me.  The poor child has fainted.”

There was more, a deal more, she would have said just then, but for M. d’Ormesson’s presence.

Moved by a deep solicitude for Mademoiselle de Kertadiou, de La Tour d’Azyr sprang up despite his wound.

“I am in poor case to render assistance, madame,” he said, an apologetic smile on his pale face.  “But... "

With the aid of d’Ormesson, and in spite of the latter’s protestations, he got down from the caleche, which then moved on a little way, so as to leave the road clear — for another carriage that was approaching from the direction of the Bois.

And thus it happened that when a few moments later that approaching cabriolet overtook and passed the halted vehicles, Andre-Louis beheld a very touching scene.  Standing up to obtain a better view, he saw Aline in a half-swooning condition — she was beginning to revive by now — seated in the doorway of the carriage, supported by Mme. de Plougastel.  In an attitude of deepest concern, M. de La Tour d’Azyr, his wound notwithstanding, was bending over the girl, whilst behind him stood M. d’Ormesson and madame’s footman.